i can't let you sit next to me and talk
because you
look like figs and ginger
and it just makes me want to
breathe you in
or maybe sit down with a
gigantic canvas and paint
Jackson-Pollock style-
go wild with a brush and multicolored
thoughts about us wandering in the middle of nowhere
holding hands and
talking about nothing in particular.
and no, you can't be nice to me,
not with the way your eyes shine-
they remind me
of serene moments
spent in the same room.
Not to be bold, but I've felt your arms
reaching out and wrapping themselves around me-
doing what they were intended to do all along, mind you.
No, you can't look at me,
i can't let your eyes stray over me for a couple of seconds
because they belong there and you just don't know it yet.
you can't until you do.
Not until you know that it's
crazy
that so much space keeps us apart
and realize that
little things keeps us together.
You aren't allowed to.

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